


Going Forward

by without_a_license



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Daddy Kink, Dubious Consent, M/M, Oral Sex, Semi-Public Sex, so much daddy kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-10
Updated: 2013-07-10
Packaged: 2017-12-18 07:26:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/877184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/without_a_license/pseuds/without_a_license
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal catches a teenage Will gawking at a murder scene. Sex and daddy issues ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Going Forward

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a tumblr prompt by the ever-inspiring astrakiseki. The rape is off-stage and doesn't involve Hannibal or Will (it relates to a crime scene). Will is 17, which is underage in a few U.S. states. It's legal in Maryland and D.C., which is probably where they are.

Will is seventeen when he meets Hannibal Lecter at a crime scene. The police are huddled in a small group, discussing the scene and failing miserably to discern the motive. Will is standing in the shadows, inching closer to the Caution tape. They can't see him from where he is. 

He watches the way the sunlight glinted off the pool of blood, and the sight of it makes his mouth water shamefully. The girl couldn't be older than 15. She had been raped viciously, and then the killer had removed her vulva and uterus. He had fixed up her hair and sewn her body closed, using the blood to dye her lips and cheeks a vibrant red. The puddle of blood started at her hips (the body had been moved), and the man had dragged it out so it resembled a full skirt extending to her ankles. 

Will steps up so he is pressing against the tape. From this angle, he can see that she must have been very beautiful in life. Her wide green eyes stare up at the sky, as though looking for a savior, and her thick brown hair has been combed over one delicate shoulder. 

A man steps up behind Will and draws him backward until Will's shoulders rest against the man's chest. Not a cop, then. A cop would not stroke a warm hand down across Will's nipple. A cop would not lean in close and inhale deeply from Will's neck. 

"What do you see, little one?" a voice purrs in his ear. His accent is throaty and deep. Will closes his eyes, and speaks in a soft, clear whisper. 

"She was meant to be waiting for him. They were going to run away together, maybe after she turned 18. She was supposed to wait. She was playing with him, though. He was older, and something about his face or body made him unattractive. He might be crippled or deformed somehow. She liked the attention he gave her. Then he…he found out she wasn't a virgin. He wanted her to…bear his children. A virgin bride. But he…he found out she wasn't, so he wanted to make her in death what she failed to be in life. He took out the parts that made her impure, and he…she should have worn a white wedding dress, but she didn't deserve it, so he dressed her in red. I think he probably kept her parts, maybe preserved them as a reminder to himself. Not to trust a pretty face." 

The hand on his chest grips him tight through his thin t-shirt, and another hand strokes down his side to grab his hip, finding the shape of it through his baggy pants. 

"That is very good. You are a good boy. How do you know all this?" 

A warm fountain of pride bubbles up in Will's chest. He never gets praise like this. He wants to keep pleasing this man, so that he will continue to believe that Will is good. 

"I see it. When I look at the picture he painted, I can see what he was trying to say." 

The man growls, a deep sound that shoots straight to Will's cock. He hasn't even seen the man's face, doesn't even know his name. 

"What a unique gift you have. But I wonder, what would you paint, if you had the materials?" 

Will turns to look up, and the man allows it, adjusting his hands so they are both settled lightly on Will's waist. The man is dressed in a ridiculously expensive suit, with a tie patterned in the colors of a peacock's plumage, but it is his face that arrests Will's thoughts. He has oddly pronounced lips, almost as though he is pouting, though Will doubts this man would ever be so petty as to pout. From his lips, his face ascends into cheekbones like mountain peaks, and his deeply set brown eyes gaze patiently into Will's wounded blue ones. 

He is striking. The sight of him makes Will feel as though he's been struck. He looks down, breaking eye contact, and lays both of his hands atop one of the man's own, still curled around Will's waist. He speaks softly, confessing his sins. This man might be able to understand.

"I would want to make them more like dogs. I would take their eyes, so they couldn't look at me, and their tongues, so they couldn't speak to me. Maybe I would amputate at the knee so they'd be forced to crawl, or maybe just bind their legs, calves to thighs. I'd do several at once, and arrange them all around me, obedient to me. The would be my pack of dogs, and I would be the master." 

The kiss startles him. The man is insistent, dominant, pressing his way into Will's mouth. When Will fails to respond, his bottom lip is bitten sharply. His mouth drops open in surprise, and the man takes his opening, thrusting in deeply with his tongue. Will instantly relaxes, baring his throat. He recognizes an alpha male. This man has more of a right to Will's mouth than Will does. 

The man draws back roughly, scraping his teeth against Will's upper lip as he pulls away. Will can feel his mouth swelling. 

"My dear, beautiful, brilliant boy. I can teach you what you ought to learn, but you must obey me. You will be my son, and I will be your father. Tell me now, because if we go forward, you can never go back." 

A thousand thoughts run through Will's mind, but the strongest one is the realization that he finally has a chance to be free of his miserable life. He searches his mind for the proper way to convey his gratitude. He dares to look into the man's eyes once more, to discern what he wants Will to say. He is unused to using his gift to please others. 

"I want to - go forward. Thank you, father." 

Will's father chuckles darkly, and takes Will's hand. They walk quickly away from the crime scene, Will hopping slightly in order to keep up. It wouldn't do to upset his new father on his very first day as a son. 

Father drags him swiftly down two city blocks, before veering sharply into another dark alleyway. He pulls Will into a concrete alcove meant for truck deliveries, but the shop it belongs to is deserted. Nothing has been delivered here for months. 

Father pushes Will into the wall, and his sharp shoulder blades bruise against the rough concrete. 

"What is your name, little one?" 

Will is gasping from adrenaline and shock, but he manages to choke out his own name. 

"And what do you want, Will?" 

Will makes eye contact with his father, and he feels as though he is funneling upward, falling into his father's eyes like a small bird sucked into a column of hot air. 

"I want…to please you, father. To make you proud." 

Father smiles at him, and the smile is terrifying. Will shivers. 

"And how do you propose to do that, my dear?" 

Will glances down, uncertain, and then he sees the fabric stretched taut across his father's groin. He collapses to his knees, reaching forward, and then hesitates, looking up again. 

"Can I? Please, daddy. I want to." 

His father groans again, and the deep sound seems to vibrate the ground beneath Will's knees. He rubs the heel of his hand across the warm fabric, then takes a deep breath. He uses one hand to explore the shape and size of the cock, and the other to fiddle with the buttons and zipper. He rests his forehead against Daddy's stomach, frowning slightly as he tries to open the unfamiliar fly. A hand drops down to stroke his curls. 

"You are a good boy. Such a good boy, my Will." 

Will manages to get the trousers open, and he presses his open mouth uncertainly against the bulge in Daddy's boxer briefs, glancing up through his eyelashes. Daddy's expression is unfamiliar to him. He looks…fond. He isn't afraid of Will, or irritated by him. He doesn't look as though he's about to ask Will to go away. 

Fortified, he licks around the shape of the head through the cloth, wetting it and pressing against it with his lips, trying to determine the right amount of pressure. Daddy seems especially pleased with firm pressure. When Will shoves his whole face into Daddy's groin like a dog, his cock jumps against Will's cheek. 

Will pulls down the fabric, allowing Daddy's cock to spring up. He kneads his fingers into Daddy's hips, squeezing and releasing the warm flesh over and over to calm himself as he nuzzles gratefully against his father's length. 

The skin is hot and silky, and Will giggles softly to himself when it occurs to him that for all of Dad's fine clothes, he could never wear anything softer than his own foreskin. Oh, now Will is getting distracted, thinking about making clothes out of human skin. Daddy curls his nails against Will's scalp, bringing him back to the moment. 

Tentatively, he takes the large head into his mouth, using his right hand to retract the foreskin. He looks up as he works, tracking the expressions that flit across his father's face. He likes it when Will rolls his cock back and forth across his wet tongue, and he likes it when Will uses his curled lips to mouth at the part just below the head. Despite the fact that it is called "sucking cock," Daddy does not like it when Will seals his lips and creates suction. 

Will backs off, dragging his tongue around the thick lip that flares out at the bottom of the head. He likes finding the crease where the head meets the length, a little groove that seems made for the tip of Will's pointed tongue. 

Daddy presses his fingers steadily against the back of Will's neck, and he obligingly opens his mouth wider, using one hand to guide the cock in deeper. He gags and chokes when it hits the back of his throat, but Daddy holds his head tightly with both hands and forces him to stay there until his throat relaxes. 

Tears are streaming down Will's face, and he knows he must be bright red, but he allows his father to set a rough rhythm, pulling back and thrusting in, bumping against the back of Will's throat with every thrust. 

Daddy strokes along the soft skin beneath Will's jawbone, and he understands the order. He tries to move his tongue again, and when that doesn't work, he begins a pattern of pressing down and letting up with his lips every time Daddy pauses. Every third thrust is harder than the others, and each one brings fresh tears to Will's eyes. 

Despite the pain, he finds himself feeling happy. He is useful. Daddy is using him, and Daddy is pleased with him. As long as he continues to be useful, his father will keep him around, giving him praise and bringing him to crime scenes. 

Daddy pulls sharply at Will's hair, and he turns his face up. The older man clutches Will's skull with both hands and holds him in place, and Will feels hot liquid sliding down his throat. 

Then he is released, and he falls backward against the wall, sitting on a carpet of dead leaves and cigarette butts. He feels free. He feels content. His father gathers himself together and kneels down to clean Will's face with a silk handkerchief. 

Will lets his head drop into his father's hand, and he smiles blissfully. A cloud of euphoria permeates through Will's small figure, and he exhales bliss through his bruised lips.


End file.
